


something harder, now

by Suicix



Series: hard/soft [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Anal Sex, Chokers, Dom/sub, Fisting, Friends With Benefits, Friendship/Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suicix/pseuds/Suicix
Summary: “Do you think you could take it?” Jinyoung asks, suddenly sincere. “My whole hand?”





	something harder, now

**Author's Note:**

> set in the same continuity as my other jinbam choker d/s fic but you know. a lot more explicit [eyes emoji]

Everything’s running smoothly for Jinyoung’s visit this evening. Bambam’s apartment is clean and tidy, the meal he’s cooking for the two of them looks like it’s going to turn out great, and his cats are all behaving. Even if this were all that Jinyoung were coming over for – a meal and to see Bambam – Bambam has no doubts that it would still be a good night. The prospect of sex – of submitting, Bambam can’t help but think, because he’s already wearing a choker and he can feel it there, the soft leather comfortable around his neck – just makes it all the sweeter.

Jinyoung’s due to arrive soon, and just as Bambam glances across to look at the time on his phone, the doorbell rings. He turns the heat down on the cooker and then heads to the hallway to answer it, closing the kitchen door behind him on his way. A cat jumping up to try and get at the meat that’s still cooking on the stove would definitely _not_ do at this point, when it’s so close to being done.

Bambam doesn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door; there’s no point when he already knows who’s behind it.

“Jinyoung-hyung,” he exclaims as he opens the door, and Jinyoung smiles, measured and serene. “Come in.”

“Good evening,” Jinyoung says as he steps inside. He takes off his shoes and puts them on the rack where some of Bambam’s shoes are lined up. “You can just leave all of these out here and your cats won’t ruin them?”

“They’re not dogs,” Bambam tells him. “You’re just used to having to hide everything away from when you lived with Coco. Come to the kitchen, I’m almost done with cooking.”

Jinyoung follows him through, telling him that it smells good and asking him how he is on the way. Bambam thanks him, answers his questions, and gets back to cooking when they’re in the kitchen. The food’s so very nearly done, and Jinyoung watches him as he finishes it up, leaning back against the counter. It’s impossible for Bambam not to be conscious of it: of the way Jinyoung’s eyes skim over him, trying to be subtle when he looks at Bambam’s neck, at the choker. The subject will come up sooner or later, but not just yet.

Bambam turns the stove off with a flourish. All done. He serves up the food, and it looks good if he says so himself.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks Jinyoung as he sets the last dish down on the table.

“Water’s fine. I considered bringing a bottle of wine with me, but then I thought–” This time when Jinyoung looks at Bambam’s choker, it’s obviously deliberate, like he wants Bambam to know that he’s looking. “–then I thought I probably shouldn’t. You know?”

“Yeah,” Bambam agrees. “It wouldn’t have been a good idea.”

He goes to retrieve the water and comes back with two glasses. Jinyoung thanks him and they tuck in. It _is_ good, much to Bambam’s relief. Not that he didn’t think it would be, but there’s so much more pressure when he’s cooking for someone else. Especially when that someone else is going to be – well. Doing what Jinyoung will be doing to Bambam later, whatever shape that may take.

Two empty plates end up on the table: the meal’s a definite success. Bambam clears up and they head through to the living room.

“So,” Jinyoung starts to say almost as soon as they’re sitting down on the couch. Bambam thinks he already knows where this is heading. He _hopes_ he knows where this is heading. “We have to talk about that.” Jinyoung nods at the choker. “Do you want to do it now, or do you want to wait a while?”

“Now. If you don’t mind.” Bambam finds himself answering immediately: yes, good, this is what he wants. And it’s not just the sex, because this is so much more than just sex. It’s fulfilling each other’s needs in ways that other people can’t. Completing each other. “My bedroom?”

He leads the way, but Jinyoung’s the one to shut the door firmly behind them.

“OK,” Jinyoung says, level and even and everything Bambam needs him to be. “Tell me the specifics. What do you want tonight?”

“I don’t know. Not exactly. I know I want you to fuck me. And I want you to dom me, obviously.” Now that he’s thinking about it, trying to figure out what he wants, Bambam finds himself fiddling with his choker. Jinyoung’s gaze drifts to Bambam’s hand, to Bambam’s neck.

“Black leather,” he says thoughtfully. “And it’s heavier than a lot of your other ones.” He narrows his eyes a little, like he’s studying Bambam, like he’s coming to some kind of conclusion. “So you want it harder tonight.”

Bambam nods. He doesn’t say anything.

“You want to get fucked and you want something hard but apart from that you don’t know. Do you want to be pushed around? Humiliated? You want it rough?”

“You can be rough when you fuck me, but I don’t really wanna be pushed around tonight. Not unless you need to punish me for something, but we can negotiate that if it happens. You can say stuff, though, if it fits. If anything’s too much you know I’ll tell you, hyung.”

“Hm.” Jinyoung hums his approval. “We’ll play it by ear, then,” he concludes. “You know the drill.” He says it like he wants Bambam to tell him exactly what _the drill_ is, a request without a question mark. A demand.

“Yellow to slow down and red to stop,” Bambam says, and Jinyoung nods.

“Good.” He smiles, approving. “Ready to start?”

“Ready.”

Just like that, with one word from Bambam, the atmosphere changes. The look on Jinyoung’s face changes. When he next speaks, his voice has changed, too.

“Strip for me. Everything but the choker.”

Bambam does. He’s quick to get rid of his clothes, and he folds them into a neat pile before setting them aside. He stands up straight in front of Jinyoung, his hands behind his back and his eyes directed at the floor. Presenting himself.

“So pretty for me, but so easy, too.” Jinyoung’s words are delicate and dark all at once; the sound of him speaking has heat pooling in Bambam’s gut. “I should have known how badly you wanted it seeing as you’ve already got that on. One of your chokers. One of your collars, basically. Whatever you want to call it, it doesn’t matter. When you’re wearing one of those, you’re mine either way. Isn’t that right, Bambam?”

“Yes, Jinyoung-hyung.” Bambam doesn’t lift his eyes from the ground to answer. He just stands there, still, waiting to be asked to do something.

“Mine,” Jinyoung says again, slowly, savouring it. “All of you. Your body, your mind. As long as you’re wearing that, you belong to me. Tell me again. Tell me who you belong to.”

“I’m yours,” says Bambam. He swallows before continuing, feels his heart beating faster as he does. “I belong to you.”

“That’s right.” Jinyoung takes a step closer towards him, sweeping his thumb over the length of the choker before taking Bambam’s face in his hand and tilting Bambam’s head up to look at him. “So gorgeous, Bambam-ah. Begging to be ruined.”

“Please.” It slips out. Bambam can’t help it when Jinyoung’s looking at him like that. When there are dark, hungry eyes on him, eyes that look like they could tear him apart with just a glance.

“Oh? Please what?”

“Please ruin me,” Bambam says. He takes a breath, and everything else comes out as a mindless string of babble, the words coming out of his mouth without even a moment’s thought beforehand. “Wreck me. Whatever. Please. I _am_ begging for it, just like you said. I’m so desperate, I need it. I want it so much. You, I want you so much.”

Jinyoung’s eyes are completely lit up now, so bright that they’re practically sparkling. It’s everything he wants to hear, Bambam knows it.

“I can see,” Jinyoung says, his voice low. He’s glancing downwards, down at where Bambam’s starting to get hard for him, and he smirks when he looks back up. “Gonna give you everything you want.”

Bambam shivers at the thought. Jinyoung notices, smiling even wider.

“Yeah? You like the sound of that?”

It’s probably a rhetorical question, but Bambam nods nonetheless.

“Mm, OK.” Jinyoung’s hand is gone, then: he moves back and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “On my lap, come on.” He pats his thigh, and Bambam heads over, straddling him. Jinyoung’s still in his clothes and there’s something thrilling about that, about the fact that there’s such a marked difference between them, Jinyoung fully dressed and Bambam in nothing but the choker.

Jinyoung’s hands settle on Bambam’s waist, holding him still. Not that Bambam will move unless Jinyoung tells him to, not when they’re like this. Sometimes he will, just to be a brat, just to get a fire going, but not now. Now, he’ll just let Jinyoung do whatever.

A hand skims up Bambam’s side, finally stopping at his chest to press a thumb to a nipple. The pressure is sharp, enough to make him gasp, and Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at the sound before taking Bambam’s nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. He twists it, squeezing a little, and Bambam moans, the sound spilling out so freely and easily as his eyes flutter shut. When he opens them back up, Jinyoung’s looking right at him. Then, Jinyoung looks down, just like he did when they were both standing up, his eyes on Bambam’s dick. He doesn’t touch, but with the strength of his gaze, he might as well have.

“Already getting hard for me,” Jinyoung says, his other hand going for the other nipple and doing the same. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? Being on your knees for me. Sitting on my lap like this. Me fucking you. All of it. I can’t say I blame you. I think about you, too.” That has Bambam’s head spinning. Realistically, he knows that it’s something that happens considering that he sometimes fantasises about Jinyoung, but hearing Jinyoung actually say it is something else. It’s a breathtaking image: Jinyoung jerking off to the thought of him, his hand on his cock as he thinks about coming on Bambam’s face or fucking Bambam deep or-or-or so many other different things. The possibilities are endless. “You really are desperate for it, aren’t you? Squirming in my lap like that. If you stay here for much longer you’ll be leaking precome all over my trousers.”

God, Bambam will. He knows it. He grinds against Jinyoung some more, not even trying to hold in the noise. If this wasn’t a scene, he’d be wrapping his arms around Jinyoung’s neck, trying to get as close as possible, but right now, he isn’t explicitly allowed to do that. Jinyoung rests his hands on Bambam’s thighs, a silent signal for Bambam to stop moving.

“Lube and condoms are in your nightstand drawer?” Jinyoung asks, even though Bambam knows he already knows where they are. Bambam nods in answer. “Lie back on the bed for me, up against the pillows. Stay still and wait.” Jinyoung presses a kiss to Bambam’s cheek and Bambam does as he says, moving off of Jinyoung’s lap and onto the bed.

He lies there, just as still as Jinyoung told him to be, waiting patiently as Jinyoung stands and heads up to the bedside table for lube and a condom. Jinyoung sets both items down on the bed and moves back to stand at the foot of the bed, putting him and Bambam in each other’s direct line of sight. All Bambam can do is watch as Jinyoung starts unbuttoning his shirt, slow and teasing. All he can do is wait as Jinyoung unbuckles his belt and carefully sets it down, as Jinyoung undoes his fly and gets rid of his pants.

Jinyoung’s meticulous as he folds up his clothes, every single movement sharp and crisp. He’s doing it on purpose, so deliberate. Keeping his underwear on for now, just to tease. The outline of his cock is visible through the fabric, and god, Bambam wants. He wants that body on top of him, that cock inside him. Wants Jinyoung giving him everything-everything-everything.

Finally, Jinyoung reaches for the waistband on his underwear and starts actually pushing it down and off, still just as torturously slow as before. He’s looking directly at Bambam as he does, obviously aware of exactly what he’s doing to Bambam. The underwear joins the pile of the rest of his clothes, and he turns around. Looking back at Bambam again.

Instinctively, Bambam spreads his thighs out wider. Showing himself off, inviting Jinyoung in. Jinyoung smiles down at him and gets on the bed. He reaches for the lube and starts to move towards Bambam, kneeling in the space between his legs.

“OK?” Jinyoung says, his voice low, and he’s obviously checking in, needing an answer.

“I’m fine,” Bambam tells him with a smile. “I’m ready.”

Jinyoung gives a brisk nod, his brow furrowing in concentration as he uncaps the lube and slicks his fingers up. He grips one of Bambam’s thighs with his other hand; the lubed-up one reaches down below Bambam’s balls, pressing a finger inside him: one to start with and then two and eventually a third.

“Good?” Jinyoung asks, and Bambam nods. He’s used to this. He knows how this feels, how to take this. He knows what’s coming next.

Still, that doesn’t mean that he can’t ask for something else along the way.

“More,” Bambam finds himself saying, shuddering when Jinyoung crooks his fingers and they press against his prostate. “Jinyoung, more.”

“Oh?” Jinyoung stops moving his fingers. He doesn’t pull his hand out, though: just leaves it where it is, deep inside Bambam. “You want more?”

The fact that he’s pausing before saying anything else, just keeping his eyes on Bambam’s, means that he wants an answer. Bambam nods, tells him yes.

“You’re going to have to ask nicely for that. Can’t give it to you if you’re just going to be a brat about it. Let’s hear you ask nicely, come on. Let’s hear you beg for it.”

“P-please, Jinyoung-hyung.” Bambam’s voice wavers a little as he says it: Jinyoung’s started fucking him again, the rhythm of his fingers steady but sharp. “Please give me something. Another finger, your cock, please-please-please give me more.”

“We’ll see,” Jinyoung says, so calm, so unreadable, and Bambam thinks he’s going to push in a fourth finger, but instead he pulls his hand back completely, leaving Bambam empty.

Bambam braces himself for something – he doesn’t know what. To be teased about how desperate and needy he sounds like this? To be told that he’s done something wrong, that he’s been making too much noise?

Instead of reprimanding him, Jinyoung just looks at him for a long, hard moment. Like he’s making some kind of calculation in his head, trying to figure out what Bambam might want.

“Do you think you could take it?” Jinyoung asks, suddenly sincere. “My whole hand?”

The thought alone makes Bambam shudder.

“Like, your fist?” he wonders, and Jinyoung nods. “I could try. I’m willing to try.”

“I’d fuck you first, like you wanted. Get you all stretched out for me. All stretched out on my cock. Do you like the sound of that, Bambam-ah?”

“Yes.” The look in Jinyoung’s eyes compels him to respond. Bambam wants it. Bambam would like that a lot. He wants to impress Jinyoung, wants to show how much he can take. “Yeah, I want it.”

“OK.” Jinyoung squeezes Bambam’s thigh. “If at any point you want to stop, you tell me. Right?”

“Right,” Bambam answers, and Jinyoung’s fingers push back inside, three at once. It’s an easy stretch, given that it’s what was inside Bambam mere moments ago, but he still moans at the sensation. Jinyoung slips in his little finger along with the first three, and it’s not much more but it’s still _more,_ a taste of what’s to come later. He fucks Bambam like that for a while, and then stops. His hand comes out. He unwraps the condom, puts it on, and gets himself lined up.

“Yeah?”

The tip of his cock is just barely brushing against Bambam’s hole, teasing.

“Yeah,” Bambam breathes. “Please, Jinyoung-hyung.”

Jinyoung pushes in. Fuck. Bambam’s taken this enough times before, but his heart still stutters every time. As much as he loves Jinyoung’s hands, it’s better than fingers, filling Bambam up so exquisitely, so perfectly. It feels strange that this is preparation for what’s to come, for something more.

Of course, it’s just as good as it always is. Jinyoung fucks into him with smooth, even strokes that get harder with time. His hands are gripping at Bambam’s thighs, holding him still, and Bambam wants there to be bruises afterwards, wants Jinyoung to mark him up. He wants something that shows he belongs to Jinyoung even after he takes off the choker. Even if they’re the only two people who will see it.

“Tell me how this makes you feel,” Jinyoung says, and Bambam doesn’t know how he can sound so composed when they’re connected like this, when Jinyoung’s balls deep inside him. In comparison, Bambam feels like a mess. With Jinyoung pounding into him like this, he finds himself having to reach for his words. He knows what Jinyoung wants him to say, though, and he also knows that it’s the truth.

“So good,” he answers. “Owned. Yours. Fuck, Jinyoungie, Jinyoung-hyung.”

“That’s right.” Jinyoung leans in so he’s closer to Bambam; it changes the angle and the slide of his cock inside Bambam gets even smoother, even sweeter. “Owned. Mine. All mine. All mine with my cock inside you and my collar around your neck.”

The mention of the choker – the _collar,_ like Jinyoung said – has Bambam tilting his head back, baring his neck for Jinyoung. He’s Jinyoung’s, like they both said. He’s Jinyoung’s, and it feels so, so good.

Bambam ends up wrapping his legs around Jinyoung’s waist, trying to pull him in closer still, and Jinyoung lets it happen, moving his hands from Bambam’s thighs and instead doing everything he can with them to drive Bambam crazy. Playing with Bambam’s nipples again, getting them stiffer and making Bambam groan. Touching Bambam’s neck, tracing a thumb over the choker, emphasising that it’s there. (Not that Bambam could ever forget.)

“Come for me,” Jinyoung says when he’s close enough to whisper in Bambam’s ear, and it’s a surprise: Bambam expected that Jinyoung would have wanted him to wait it out, that Jinyoung wouldn’t have let him come until he did it with Jinyoung’s fist inside him. “Come on, Bambam-ah, come for me.”

Jinyoung moves back and gets a hand on Bambam’s cock, jerking him off, helping him get there. Jinyoung’s hold is tight and the movement seems effortless and Bambam comes over his stomach, thoughts of what’s yet to happen – what Jinyoung’s going to give him next – enhancing the sensation, making it even sweeter. Jinyoung’s hand. Inside him. Fuck, Bambam can’t even begin to imagine what it might feel like. Will he be able to take it? He has to. He has to, for Jinyoung.

Bambam expects Jinyoung to stop and pull out there, but he doesn’t. He just keeps fucking Bambam until he comes as well, his hands tightening even more on Bambam’s thighs as he does, nails digging in. Bambam definitely isn’t complaining. Besides, it makes it clear that Jinyoung wants him to be as relaxed and ready as possible. It makes it clear that Jinyoung’s doing this properly.

Finally, Jinyoung pulls out. He takes off the condom and goes to throw it away, murmuring “One moment,” before leaving the bed to get rid of it. Once again, there’s nothing for Bambam to do but lie back and wait. This time, though, the thing he’s anticipating is something he’s never had before.

When he’s back on the bed, Jinyoung goes for the lube immediately. He gets his fingers slick again, and then moves closer.

“Four?”

Bambam nods. It’s what he had earlier, what he’s taken so many times before. Something that’ll be a given if he’s going to have Jinyoung’s fist inside him. Why draw it out?

Jinyoung pushes four fingers inside Bambam at once, no fucking around whatsoever. This, Bambam knows. He knows this stretch, this sensation. What he can’t imagine is what Jinyoung will give him next.

The answer, apparently, is more lube. How much lube will it take? The tube they’re using might end up empty, and Bambam will have to buy some more. There’s another tube ready to go in his nightstand if this one runs out, but he always likes to have a spare. Jinyoung spreads some lube around Bambam’s hole and gets his fingers just that bit deeper. His knuckles are pressing against Bambam’s rim at this point, so very nearly inside but not quite.

“You’re taking it so well.” Jinyoung’s voice is radiating awe, practically glowing with it, and his eyes are right on Bambam’s. It’s the kind of look that makes Bambam feel like he’s glowing, too. “I’m going to give you some more, OK? Is that all right?”

It is. Bambam gives another nod, and Jinyoung does exactly what he said he would: he gives Bambam more. He pulls his hand back and slips his thumb inside alongside the other fingers, pressed up against his palm. He doesn’t move it at first, just holds it inside Bambam, letting him get used to having more inside him. When he does start to move, he goes slowly, working his hand in and out and in and out and in and – out.

“Do you think you’re ready?” Jinyoung’s voice is a low, quiet murmur, but it feels loud in the deafening silence of the room. It feels loud when he’s all that Bambam can feel: his voice and his eyes and how it felt to have his hand inside. His hand’s actually clenched in a fist now, as tight as he can make it. Bambam can’t help but just stare down at it. That’s going to be _inside_ him. Like that. A fist. More than just his fingers. More than half his palm. Everything, all the way up to Jinyoung’s wrist.

 “Inside,” Bambam damn near whimpers, trying to relax even more than he already is. “Please.”

Jinyoung obliges. He’s just as slow as before, and Bambam tries to take deep breaths through it the best he can, just waiting as Jinyoung inches more and more of his hand inside. Every single shift has Bambam gasping for air and clutching at the sheets, has him swearing that Jinyoung has to be completely inside already, that this has to be it now, that–

_Oh._ He glances down at where Jinyoung’s hand is disappearing inside him. Jinyoung’s wrist-deep inside now, and Bambam can’t believe it; he’s shaken to his core. That’s Jinyoung’s hand inside him. His whole fist. Bambam feels like he’s splitting apart at the seams, like he could explode at any given second. Jinyoung’s looking at him like he could explode, like Bambam’s a bomb that could go off if something goes even just ever so slightly wrong. But it isn’t going wrong, and Bambam’s OK. He’s more than OK.

“How does that feel?” Jinyoung asks. His hand’s still. Bambam knows he won’t move it until he’s got an answer.

“I–” Bambam can’t even begin to answer: can’t quite formulate the words, can’t figure out how best to describe it. He’s pretty sure he likes it. He likes the stretch of it, the way it aches. The feeling of being overwhelmed like this, all from Jinyoung’s hand. “Good. It’s good, thank you, Jinyoung-hyung.”

“You’re green?”

“Green, yes, Jinyoung-hyung.” He’s green. He’s so fucking green and it’s not from wearing coloured contacts that turn his eyes green, not from a bad dye job that turned his hair green by accident. It’s because Jinyoung feels good inside him, because Jinyoung cares about him so much, because Jinyoung’s treating him so well.

If Bambam could come up with any coherent thoughts right now, he’d wonder if Jinyoung’s ever done this for someone before, if he’s ever given this to somebody else. He certainly comes across like he has, all confident and careful. If he hasn’t, then he’s definitely done some thorough research. Bambam doesn’t know how this is supposed to feel, but it feels right. It feels like they’re doing this the correct way. He can see how hard Jinyoung is, how much he’s enjoying doing this. That, above all, is what makes it right. That and the fact that Bambam’s hard too, so hard that he’s aching.

Again, when Jinyoung moves his hand, it’s slow. He’s just gently flexing his fist inside of Bambam, his other hand steady on Bambam’s thigh, and as moderate as the movement itself is, it’s unlike anything Bambam’s ever felt before. The stretch of Jinyoung’s hand inside him is anything _but_ moderate: it’s extreme. Bambam can’t help but recount all the things those hands have done to him. How they’ve spanked him and fingered him and slapped him and teased him, how they’ve held him and caressed him and loved him and worshipped him. A whole spectrum of care and affection, hard and soft and everywhere in between.

Right now, Jinyoung’s giving him both, giving him everything. There’s the hand inside Bambam, firm and unwavering and solid, and then there’s the hand on Bambam’s thigh, reassuring and supportive and calm. The combination has Bambam whining, pathetic little sounds that barely escape his throat. He can’t hold on for much longer, he knows it.

Jinyoung seems to know it, too. The hand on Bambam’s thigh moves to his cock, bringing him off again, Jinyoung’s other hand still a fist inside Bambam. It’s so much. So fucking much to feel all at once, and Bambam practically screams when he comes, the sensation too overwhelming to allow for anything else.

Bambam’s head’s spinning – his whole _world’s_ spinning. It feels like the world has changed, like everything is different now that he’s experienced that. Now that he’s had that orgasm, had Jinyoung’s hand inside him like that.

The hand on his cock is gone, and then Jinyoung’s other hand is easing out of him, leaving Bambam emptier than he’s ever felt after having Jinyoung fuck him. A good kind of empty, though: one that reminds him of what Jinyoung gave him. He’ll be sore in the morning (will probably be sore for days), but it’ll be worth it.

Jinyoung’s hand moves to his own cock, getting himself off with quick, even strokes. He comes on Bambam’s stomach, adding to the mess of Bambam’s two orgasms, marking him up even more. It’s just another thing that shows that he’s Jinyoung’s: the choker and the bruises on Bambam’s hips and Jinyoung’s come streaked across his skin.

There’s nothing Bambam can do now but wilt back against the sheets, exhausted. He feels far away, like he’s floating somewhere close to the ceiling. It’s a nice feeling, though. After that, he feels – whole.

“Was that good for you?” Jinyoung’s voice breaks the silence, centring as ever. Bambam can only nod, dazed. It was good. It was so, so, so good. “OK,” Jinyoung continues, reaching across to squeeze one of Bambam’s hands in his own. “I’ll clean you up.”

Jinyoung lets go of Bambam’s hand and leaves the bed to grab some wipes. Bambam watches: Jinyoung can stop touching him, but Bambam has to know that he’s there. Has to be aware of him. Pure relief washes over him when Jinyoung returns, when the cool wipe presses to Bambam’s stomach and Jinyoung takes up Bambam’s hand again. Bambam sighs, relaxing some more: that was everything he never knew he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading, everyone!! you can also find me on tumblr @ vibetechs and on twitter @gotsevenses


End file.
